Something Beautiful
by OzQueene
Summary: Georgie needs a favour, and Kwame soon finds himself as her date to an awards night in Cape Town. Total fluff; same series as 'Like No One Before'.


**Notes:** Another Kwame fic! This follows on from _Like No One Before._ I'm planning a little set of interrelated one-shots featuring Kwame. I really want to try and start exploring him a little, rather than just sticking to the usual characters. I still love Wheeler and Linka, but I definitely want to start exploring some of the other characters and fleshing them out a little.

If you want to keep reading, the next in the series is _Hold On, I'm Coming._

* * *

Kwame stretched out on his bed with a groan. His whole body ached and throbbed, and he was dirty and exhausted.

For the past six days, he and the other Planeteers had been battling Sly Sludge's latest entrepreneurial failure. Once again, he appeared to be favouring illegal dumping, and the Planeteers had been forced to overturn his latest 'business venture' and clean up the mess he'd left behind.

In a rare display of violence, Sludge had attempted to thwart them by swinging at them with a crowbar. Wheeler had suffered a nasty concussion and Kwame's ribs were flushed with a dark bruise which still seemed to be spreading across his chest.

There was a knock on his door. He barely suppressed a groan.

"Come in."

"Hey." Gi let herself in and tossed him a bag of ice. "Put this on your bruise. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, fine," he answered, half-heartedly pressing the cold bag against his skin. "Just exhausted. How is Wheeler?"

"Still insisting Linka puts on a nurse's outfit so he can heal faster. He seems well enough to me."

Kwame grinned tiredly. "Good. We should keep an eye on him, though. He was hit hard."

Gi nodded and raked her hands through her hair, wincing when she felt mud and grime. "I think I need to go and shower. I'll see you tomorrow, Kwame."

He nodded and wished her goodnight before he eased himself off the bed and headed to his own bathroom, suddenly desperate to wash away the stink of the past six days.

He returned to find a voicemail waiting for him on his phone. He frowned when he glanced at the screen and saw he'd missed a call from Georgie.

He wasn't entirely sure where things stood with Georgie. It had been six weeks since he'd met her, and they had spoken every couple of days. The kiss he'd shared with her certainly hadn't been forgotten, but he was beginning to feel anxious about what it had meant. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject of what they had between them – or what they didn't have.

He hit dial immediately, easing himself back against his pillows with a sigh.

"Kwame, I'm so glad you called!"

He smiled. His mood always instantly lifted when he heard her voice. "I am sorry I missed you, before," he apologised. "Is everything all right?"

"Well, I have a favour to ask," she said desperately. "I know it's really short notice, so I understand if you're too busy, but I – I sort of need a date."

His heart started hammering. "A date?"

"For tomorrow night?" she asked hopefully. "Remember that research project I was telling you about? The one about the drought-resistant crops? I was nominated for my role and the awards ceremony is tomorrow –"

"Georgie, that is fantastic!" he cried, propping himself up on his elbows. He could feel himself glowing with pride and he felt a little ashamed he hadn't known about her nomination earlier. He was usually very good at keeping up with her latest achievements.

She gave a small laugh, sounding embarrassed. "Thank you," she said. "Anyway – the awards are in Cape Town tomorrow night. I thought I'd go alone, you know, because it just didn't seem like a big deal. But now I'm nervous and it'd be really nice to have someone there with me..."

Just listening to her speaking so rapidly and breathlessly gave him butterflies. "I would love to come," he said. "I am sure you will do brilliantly."

She gave a soft sigh of relief and then laughed again. "Thank you, Kwame. But I think the competition will be fierce. All I really want is to have you there. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier."

"I will be there," he promised. "And I am sorry I did not know about this sooner. I am usually very up-to-date on your research."

She chuckled. "You've been following my research less since we've been talking on the phone. Right?"

He grinned sheepishly and leaned back into his pillows. "Right," he agreed. "Reading articles about you cannot compare to talking to you on the phone."

She giggled again. "Well, hopefully we'll get some time to talk tomorrow night. I'll have to meet you there, is that all right?"

"Sure," he answered, swallowing a little too loudly for his liking. "Just send me the details and I will be there. I promise."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Thanks for helping me out again," she said softly. "I guess I owe you another kiss, now."

All he could do was swallow again.

* * *

Kwame rarely fidgeted or displayed nerves, but he found himself adjusting his tie and his cuffs repeatedly as he waited for Georgie in the lobby of the hotel.

The awards were being held in a large hall down the corridor, and steady streams of well-dressed people were making their way inside. He hoped Georgie hadn't wandered past him. They'd arranged to meet by the elevators, but she was running late.

He glanced at his watch again, drumming his fingertips lightly on the thin glass of the face as he realised another five minutes had slid by.

Outside, the evening was still full of golden light and warm air. The city was starting to light up. Cape Town was an exceptionally beautiful place, and Kwame was suddenly sorry that he'd spent so little time there before.

In the middle of his daydreaming, he hadn't seen Georgie approach. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned in surprise. It took a lot of conscious thought to keep his mouth from dropping open.

Her hair was coiled up into wide curls at the back of her head, showing off her long neck and slender shoulders. Her dress was pale, minty green – a beautiful contrast against her dark skin. The material fell to the floor in drapes, hiding her legs and her shoes and making her seem even taller.

"Hi," she said, smiling widely at him.

He cleared his throat, blushing slightly. "Hello. You look nice."

She laughed and took his hand. "Thank you. So do you. I'm sorry I'm so late. My room is just upstairs but I guess I underestimated how long it would take me to do my hair like this."

"I think it was worth it," he said, smiling at her.

She stretched up and kissed his cheek, carelessly stroking her thumb across his skin to smooth away the smudge of lipstick she'd left against him. "Shall we go and find our seats?" she asked. "I can't promise the conversation will be very stimulating. We're with a lot of very boring scientists, tonight."

He chuckled and let her lead him along by the hand. "Maybe I will fit right in."

She laughed and shook her head. "No, you're much more fun than they are."

He grinned, and felt ripe joy settle around his heart.

* * *

"My category isn't for a while," Georgie said, setting a glass of sparkling wine down in front of Kwame. "You'll sit with me right until the end, right?"

"Of course," he said, laughing. He watched the way her eyes twinkled and he found that the use of speech had left him again.

The room was enormous, and filled with the dim hum of conversation. Tables were arranged at the front, by the stage, and the whole thing seemed very unstructured and disorganised, to Kwame. People wove in and out of the tables with trays of drinks or _hors d'oeuvres_, and a stressed-looking woman wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard kept racing back and forth across the area in front of the stage, barking instructions to people.

Georgie had kept hold of his hand, lacing her fingers through his, and he found himself concentrating on how small and slender her hand felt against his, and how soft her skin was.

She shifted, crossing one leg over the other and sandwiching his hand between both of hers, resting them on her lap. He kept his eyes focused on the harried woman on the stage. She was growing more frantic by the minute, and thus serving as quite a welcome distraction from the steady warmth he could feel from Georgie beside him.

"How are the other Planeteers?" Georgie asked softly, watching him with a look of slight amusement. For some reason she could see through any outer display of calm he was trying to convey.

"Tired," he said. "I think Wheeler has a concussion. Our last job was difficult."

"Is he okay?" Georgie asked in concern.

"Okay enough to suggest lewd jokes and dating tips," Kwame answered dryly, remembering Wheeler's over-exuberant farewell. Linka had elbowed him roughly in the stomach and had snapped at him to shut up, though both she and Gi had been fairly giggly too, after discovering Kwame was off to spend time with Georgie.

Georgie laughed. "And the girls? And Ma-Ti?"

"They send their love and congratulations for your nomination," he said, smiling at her. "We are all okay. Just a little worn out."

"I didn't mean to make you fly so far," she said desperately, suddenly looking guilty. "I'm sorry... You didn't have to come, you know –"

"No!" he blurted in alarm. "No, I wanted to come. Really." He squeezed her hand a little and she gave a sigh of relief and smiled up at him.

"I'm glad," she said softly. "I really wanted you to come. I was just too nervous to ask any sooner..."

He smiled, and kept his eyes on her even as the table around them filled with her colleagues and the presentation started on the stage in front of them.

* * *

She didn't win.

She handled it with grace and dignity, smiling and applauding as the winner made his speech, but Kwame could see the disappointment in her eyes. He took her aside after the speeches and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, not sure just how upset she was or what he could do to make her feel better.

"It's not that I didn't win," she said, smiling up at him, "It's that someone who has no respect for the environment won. His technology is so expensive and intrusive in terms of its impact on our eco-systems... I don't understand why that sort of science is still encouraged."

Kwame's heart simultaneously swelled and broke. He took her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "I do not understand it either," he admitted quietly. "But things _are_ getting better. People are becoming more aware of the effect we have on the planet."

"I know," she answered, smiling. She reached up and kissed his cheek. "Come and dance with me for a little while?"

"Sure," he breathed.

Now that the ceremony and the speeches were over and all the awards handed out, people had moved away from the seating area to mill around by the dance floor or the open doors that led out into the garden.

Georgie put her arms around his neck, seemingly content to just sway against him. He couldn't help but feel relieved – he had never been much a dancer; always feeling a little too self-conscious to try it properly.

He was very conscious of where his hands were – he left them around her waist, at the small of her back, but the material of her dress was so thin and light, it was almost as though his palms rested against her bare skin. The thought caused him to swallow hard. Again.

"Are you okay?" Georgie asked with a smile, looking up at him.

"I am fine," he promised, but he felt heat race to his face again. He sighed and shook his head with a smile. "You make me nervous," he admitted.

Her smile faded somewhat. "Why?"

"Because you are so pretty," he answered helplessly.

She laughed and rested her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her arms a little further around his neck. "Now I like you even more than I did before," she sighed, swaying slowly with him.

He smiled and hugged her closer, daringly, breathing in the sweet floral scent of her perfume and relishing the warmth and closeness of her body.

* * *

"Where are you staying?" Georgie asked quietly.

"Oh, only a couple of blocks away," Kwame said. He gave her a small grin. "The Planeteer budget did not stretch enough to allow me a night in _this_ hotel."

She laughed. Her arms were still around his neck, though they had both well and truly moved away from the dance floor. They were out on the stone steps that led down to the rolling lawns that over-looked the ocean. Georgie was on the step above Kwame, and as a result her face was level with his.

"Have you had a good time?" she asked softly. "I'm sorry it wasn't more exciting."

"Are you joining the long list of people who tell me I need more excitement?" Kwame asked, raising his eyebrow.

She laughed delightedly, tilting her head back. "No, that's not what I meant."

"I am sorry you didn't win," he said. "I had hoped to see that – more than any excitement."

She smiled at him. "You're sweet, Kwame."

He grinned with gentle pleasure. "You are rather sweet, too."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently. "I don't want to cut this moment short, but my feet are killing me. Do you think we could go and sit down?"

"Of course," he said, chuckling.

She smiled. "Would you mind if we took a few minutes away from everyone? We could talk in my room, but if you'd rather stay down here, I understand."

He just shook his head, breathlessly, and she gave him another soft kiss.

* * *

He was acutely aware of every nerve in his body as they took the elevator up to Georgie's room. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect – or what she expected of him – but when he thought carefully about it for a moment, he didn't think he had anything to worry about. Neither of them seemed too intent on moving things faster than they could handle. But they were comfortable with each other, and he liked her _very_ much, so it seemed okay to move away from the crowds and be alone with her without it seeming like a big deal.

She had stopped at the front desk and had asked for a bucket of ice and champagne to be sent up, but she had stressed to Kwame that they could return downstairs again later if they wanted to join the party again – dull as it seemed.

They stopped on the sixth floor and Georgie led him to her room, swiftly kicking her strappy, silver stilettos aside with a sigh of relief.

"That's better," she said, sinking onto the edge of the bed. Kwame smiled at her and crossed to the window. Her view was not of the ocean or the gardens, but of the city sprawled out in front of him, and he watched headlights and streetlights twinkle and shift below him while the taller buildings loomed over them, sending a soft yellow glow up over the city so the stars were hidden.

"Not much of a view, is it?" Georgie asked, watching him as she rubbed one of her feet.

He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled. "It is not bad," he said. "But the view inside the room is prettier."

She laughed, and he fancied he could see her blushing. "Smooth," she said.

"I think I have been spending a little too much time with Wheeler," he sighed, sitting beside her.

She smiled at him. "No, you're _much_ smoother than he is."

"I am?" He laughed.

"And more handsome," she said cheekily, nudging him a little.

He grinned and shrugged, too stupidly-pleased to offer any comment back to her.

The champagne arrived, anyway, and Georgie skipped across the carpet in bare feet, accepting the tray graciously at the door.

She set it down on the table by the window. "Would you like some? I'm not expecting to drink this whole thing by myself..."

He laughed. "Just a little."

She poured him a glass and sat beside him again. "Tell me about your latest mission?" she requested. "Why was it so tiring?"

He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie and his shirt cuffs as he spoke to her, recounting the dirty horrors he and the other Planeteers had been forced to wade through in the week previously. When he mentioned the part about Sludge swinging a crowbar at him, Georgie's eyes widened in concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered. "It is just a bruise. I have had plenty of them, over the years."

"Where is it?" she asked softly. "Here?"

She placed a hand against his side, and his heart started drumming loudly in his chest. He took her hand and shifted it up to his ribs.

"Here."

She stroked a thumb over the crisp material of his shirt.

He had two layers on – his dress shirt and an under-shirt – but he could still feel her touch like electricity against his bare skin. He curled his fingers slightly against the bedding, resisting the urge to shiver.

She set her empty glass down next to his, on the bedside table, and turned back to him. "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I move the wrong way," he said. "Lifting my arm hurts a little, but I have not had much call for that, yet..."

She frowned down at the front of his shirt, as though trying to see through the cotton. "I know how dangerous it can be," she said worriedly. "I was there, remember? And I thought we were both going to die. Another minute and we'd have been –"

"Georgie," he interrupted softly, "there is nothing for you to worry about."

"Yes there is," she answered, raising her eyes to his. "I worry about _you._ And to be honest, I'm not even sure if I have the right. But I _do_ worry, Kwame. The mission that led you to me – that was just _one_ mission. One mission in what must be hundreds, right?"

He nodded quietly.

"Well, how many times have you stared death in the face?" Her voice cracked and he looked at her in alarm, suddenly realising that she was close to tears.

"A few times," he admitted. "But if I thought about it like that, I would go crazy. There has always been a way out, Georgie. If you ask the right questions or if you put pressure on the right spot – a lock, or a rope, or a person – you get out."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm still going to worry."

He chuckled and put his arms around her, hugging her close. "I spend a lot of time worrying about my friends," he admitted. "It will be nice, having someone to worry about me."

She laughed and burying her face against his neck. She slid her palm against his shirt. "You don't have any broken ribs or anything, do you?"

"No," he answered. "I can show you, if you like?"

She drew back and wiped her eyes, watching intently as he worked the bottom of his shirt loose and unbuttoned it so he could push it aside. He lifted his undershirt and she gasped aloud when she saw the angry mark on his skin.

Looking down at it, he marvelled silently. It was certainly the worst bruise he'd ever received. He became aware, for the first time, that his muscles were aching and tender, and he wondered why on Earth he hadn't felt the pain before.

"How can that not hurt?" she asked incredulously, sounding upset. She ran her fingers over his skin and he sighed aloud with relief. Her gentle touch sent surprising, wonderful waves of ease and pleasure through him.

"Down," she demanded, pushing against his shoulders slightly. She tugged and pulled at him until she was satisfied and he was stretched out on the bed, his back and his shoulders propped up against the many pillows on her bed.

She moved quickly, snatching up the ice bucket by the window and clunking it down onto the bedside table, taking out a slippery ice cube in her fingers and sliding her hand under his shirt, holding the ice against his skin.

This time, he did shiver, and she smiled at him. "Feel better?"

He nodded wordlessly. He wanted to tell her it was unnecessary, but once again, to his annoyance, speech failed him.

"You can always say no, you know," she said softly. "If you were too tired or too sore to come tonight, you could have just –"

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "No, Georgie. I do not think I will _ever_ be too tired or too sore to come and see you."

She laughed and let the ice glide over his skin, beneath her fingers. "Maybe I could come to Hope Island, sometime," she said.

"I would like that," he admitted softly, letting his hand stray against the small of her back.

"We always talk about my research, or your work with the Planeteers," she said rolling towards him slightly. "Tell me more about you."

"What do you want to know?" He wasn't sure how much longer his voice would hold out. His throat seemed to be constricting with excitement as she held the ice against his skin. It was melting slowly, cold rivulets of water running down his stomach until they met with his belt and the top of his trousers.

"Where did you grow up?" she asked, arranging herself alongside him so her legs were stretched out against his. She pulled the hem of her dress up to her knees so she could shift comfortably, and Kwame blinked and averted his eyes, suddenly feeling as though her bare legs and the touch of her hand against his chest totalled to something too intimate to focus on. He concentrated on answering her question instead.

"In Kenya – but my father was from Ghana. I am not sure what led him to Kenya, but he met my mother there and decided to stay."

"You had a happy childhood?" she asked, tracing the ice across his skin.

"It was difficult," he admitted. "My father died when I was young and I had to shoulder a lot of responsibility very early."

She kissed his temple. He could feel her breath on his forehead and smell the perfume on her neck.

After reading about her for so long, he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. "Where did you grow up?"

"Los Angeles," she said, reaching over to the ice bucket and withdrawing another cube. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt again, which was wet and transparent over his bruise. "I was born here in South Africa, though. My mom and dad split when I was young and she took me to America. When I was sixteen I found an article in a science journal about my dad, and I was so angry with Mom for never telling me more about him. I had wanted to be a scientist since I was six years old." She gave a small smile. "We argued over it a lot. She didn't want me to come to Africa. I really resented her for that – I thought she was trying to hold me back. She died just after I graduated from college and it wasn't until I lost her I realised she was the one that ensured I'd achieve my dream. She put me through school and..." She trailed off and looked sad. "I can't believe we grew so far apart towards the end."

He didn't know what to say. He ran his hand gently over her back and she smiled down at him and shrugged.

"I think she'd be proud of me now."

"Of course she would be," he agreed. "And you are happy here in Africa?"

"Very," she confirmed. "I was nervous about meeting my dad... But he really helped me get started, you know? He's done some amazing things and I have so much respect for him."

"You have done amazing things too," he said. He moved his hand over her back and she smiled down at him.

"So have you."

"We are both completely amazing," he sighed.

She laughed and rested her head down on his shoulder. "Completely."

* * *

It was very late when Kwame said he had to get back to his own hotel. He didn't want to leave at all – Georgie had been dozing against him, and he was entirely comfortable stretched out on her bed with her – but he really didn't think staying the night was necessary.

Georgie didn't protest. She rolled away from him, looking tired, watching him as he gingerly dressed again. His bruise had certainly not suffered under her attentions, but it still felt tender when he moved too far or too fast.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" she asked, shifting off the bed and following him to the door.

"Of course," he said, fixing his collar. "When would you like to –"

He broke off as she clutched the front of his jacket and kissed him.

He lowered his hands and put them on her waist, familiar now with the way the material of her dress shifted over her skin. He let his thumbs glide over the swell of her hips before he put his hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer.

She smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time, opening her mouth and sighing slowly through her nose so her breath swept across his cheek.

They pulled apart slowly, and Kwame could feel his nerves trembling. He grinned at her, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Tomorrow?" she asked, leaning against him and gazing up at him.

"Lunch?" he asked.

"That's not soon enough," she said, putting a false pout on her face.

He chuckled and kissed her again.

"Breakfast?" she requested. "I know a little place not far from here and they make the best scrambled eggs in the world."

"That is a large claim to live up to," he said, raising his eyebrow. "I can make scrambled eggs that would send you weak at the knees."

She giggled and ran her fingers across the nape of his neck. "Come to breakfast with me and you can judge them for yourself."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," she sighed, smiling up at him. "I really do like you, you know. More and more."

He nodded and smiled at her, gazing back at her and knowing the exact weight of her words, and his own. "I like you too."


End file.
